


Of A Spark

by StarlightCaptivator



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Feel-good, Gen, Identity Reveal, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Reincarnation, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator
Summary: Jazz's role in the post-war world takes him out of the main settlement and out towards the ruins of a certain city of fliers, where a surprise is waiting within...





	Of A Spark

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally one of several Camp Nanowrimo prompts from 2015, but it's long enough that I've been wanting to polish it up a little and give it it's own separate posting. For something written during a month of essentially speed-writing, its not bad, especially now with a full re-write :D 
> 
> Enjoy! ♥

It had been half a vorn since Optimus Prime had thrown himself into the Well of Allsparks to finish the restarting of Cybertron, and already the seeds of unrest were firmly planted among those resettling.

Many times, Decepticons would land and fight before any sort of surrender, refusing to believe the war was any kind of over. The neutrals were almost as bad, voicing distaste and distrust for Ultra Magnus' de-facto leadership. They'd race off into the uninhabited wilds of Cybertron only be be back suddenly just a couple of solar cycles later, having been spooked by predacon sightings into staying close to those who had any idea how to fend the beasts off.

Many of the returning Decepticons who would rather attempt to fend for themselves in the wilds, were not so lucky.

When it came to the swirling maelstrom of sparks above the well- most of the newsparks that had landed thus far had luckily kept close enough to the settlement that retrieving them wasn't too much of a problem.

Sometimes, it was more about _finding_ the little buggers.

That was where Jazz came into this strange post-war world.

He was head of Special Operations and a decorated officer that used to answer to the Prime himself... and was made- for all intents and purposes- a glorified sparkling-sitter. You'd think he would be there at the landing pad or hidden around it, ready to deal with the issue mecha who occasionally came with hardon for violence and delusions of grandeur.

But no.

Until the planet stopped forging sparklings itself, he would be shoving his sorry chassis into the nooks and crannies that the new, nearly helpless Cybertronians were finding to be born in.

His latest assignment was in the ruins of Vos.

Ratchet and Knock Out had taken turns swearing roundly into the comm as the spark energy they were tracking spiraled farther and farther away from the main settlement's location, but Jazz had assured them he could follow with no issue. He was topped up and charged enough to go for a few days if he really needed to, and had supplies for longer in the unlikely case of emergency.

Before he was out of communication range, he told the pair to tell his conjunx that he'd be home late for dinner.

The self-deprecating comment earned a snort out of Knock Out at least.

Jazz recognized the unmistakable shells of the once breathtaking towers when they peeked up over the horizon and gunned his engines, forcing them to go harder, take him faster.

If the spark energy made it past the ruins there was a real chance he wouldn't be able to get to the new mech that would form before something else did.

At least the newspark would be big enough to find- the medics had said that the amount of energy the high-flying spark was giving off would assure that.

The bright energy hit apoapsis and began to descend just as Jazz hit the outskirts of the city proper. He switched to root mode with a hydralic-driven jump and activated his grapplers.

He hadn't actually witnessed a planet-led forging before and he figured that if he got to the projected landing point before the spark energy did, that would give them all that much more time to get the slag out of the ruins and back to civilization.

If there was some small part of him, deep down inside that had some sort of _feeling_  about the affair of witnessing it, he ignored it.

It was dusk when he was on a ledge overlooking a relatively open area when the final approach spiraling occurred, taking a video capture. The impact was accompanied with a flash of bright light and a small shockwave of quickly dispersing energy, but Jazz was far enough back not to be effected by the radiation let off from the burst. He made his way down to the small crater that had formed as quickly as he could. Peeking in over the edge, he had come just in time to watch the spark - correction -  _sparks_  disappear into brand new and white-hot so as to be soft juvenile frames.

Jazz queued a message to send back to head quarters once they were back in communication range that they would be in need to two people for sparkling check-ups on duty instead of one.

As the frames cooled enough for their types to be identifiable, however, it felt as though someone had left a sizable stone in the depth of Jazz's fuel tank.

The tiny chassis were  _definitely_  seeker in make, an older style he hadn't seen in quite a while. Almost in afterthought, he turned on his headlights as the light from the forging was dying off and his vents nearly stalled out for the ice that ran through his lines.

While the frames were nearly identical in type, one of the seekerlings was markedly bigger, heavier than the other. There was an obvious shimmer of blue color fading in even before the frame was completely cool. Jazz knew exactly what he'd see directing his light to the smaller frame, but the black and purple still put him on some unidentifiable edge.

He had to pull back from the crater and remind himself that no matter how strongly the pair looked it, no matter that they were born together, and no matter how badly the blades concealed in his forearms itched - these sparklings were not  _them_  anymore. It may be their sparks, but it wasn't  _them_.

Infanticide would _never_ be an option ever again, not even when they managed to drag their species back from the brink of extinction.

A soft series of inquiring peeps startled Jazz out of his thoughts, and he peeked back over the edge of the shallow crater. One set of round red optics peered back at him, only to squint as he directed his light down to see again. It was ~~Skyw-~~ the black sparkling that had awakened first, and Jazz carefully lowered himself down next to the pair.

He was barely within full reach when the sparkling clung to him, all peeping and big red cyberpup optics. Jazz had half a mind to pry the little thing off when he stopped himself. He wouldn't do anything of the sort to any other newsparks demanding attention.

He derided himself for his weakness, as after a few gentle helm pets and wingtip scritches, the seekerling became a flurry of excited chirps along with the peeps.

Resolute, he held the seeker tightly to his side as he scooped the other one up. Using his grappling hooks all the way back to a drivable surface was out of the question now. If those in charge had any idea that he'd be coming back with more cargo than anticipated, he would never have been set out alone - SpecOps or not.

Late for dinner just became a gross understatement.

Night had well and truly set in, and they'd all be lucky if he could get back to _base_ before the night following. The black seeker seemed to have no such concern, his peeping had ceased and he was happily rubbing his faceplate everywhere he could reach on Jazz's chassis. He was all unbridled and unshielded energy and field that felt vaguely familiar in an unsettling way, and the other sparkling was no different even in recharge.

It reminded Jazz of a past time, feeling those energies as he slipped through bases and ships and made notes of marks for other times. It reminded him of a time and a battle that he felt that same energy fade off and die with it's owner.

It took Jazz most of the night to hit the outskirts of Vos, and that was with stopping to feed the little scraplets little bits of the jellied survival-grade energon he kept in his subspace.

~~Thundercr-~~ The blue sparkling was far quieter and less affectionate than his counterpart when he awoke, but clung on none-the-less tightly to Jazz's side. The larger sparkling being awake had made navigation slightly easier, thankfully. He could navigate around huge bits of debris with both sparklings clamped to one side with a quickness, but that came with the unfortunate side-effect of the little ones letting go of him completely in an attempt to make better the experience of what must have felt like flying.

It had almost given Jazz a spark attack the first time, and so he stuck to the ground unless _absolutely_ necessary. The sparklings in his arms took to looking to the sky and letting out a demanding series of single peeps before looking at him expectantly, once in a while after that point, when they weren't occupied with looking at each other or him.

Finally folding down around the sparklings to his wheels afforded Jazz a feeling beyond relief. He extended his EM field to reassure the startled seekers and made sure the pair was secure before taking off back across the empty land. A little music from his cab's speakers soon lulled the two back into recharge.

 Coming back into comms range found a derth of messages assaulting Jazz's message center.

Most were from Ratchet and Knock Out and Bumblebee a few were from Prowl, and a scant couple were from Ultra Magnus himself. Jazz databurst a package containing his status and his video captures from the night prior to the proper outlets and gunned his engines. Even if his hunch came up empty, just their appearances would make the pair likely targets for Autobots with deeper grudges to hold than he had.

He kept his correspondences short, wanting to focus as much attention as he could on the return trip.

 

* * *

 

Pushing his engine as hard as he did had Jazz arriving at HQ mid-afternoon. The seekerlings began peeping excitedly within him when they passed by other mecha, who often paused to wave at Jazz's passing. Jazz would flash his lights in turn, glad that his window tint was dark enough to conceal his cargo. He pinged ahead once more to alert the medics of his arrival and proceeded on as quickly as he could.

Coming out of the medbay after having delivered his cargo, Jazz encountered Ultra Magnus.

It wasn't unexpected - temporary leader or not, Jazz still needed a handler, and it wasn't as if Prime had left directions for how to restructure his command before he left them. Jazz had run over his projected time limit for the mission and brought back two sparklings that nearly seemed like clones of two now finally confirmed for dead Decepticon officers.

Debriefing was going to suck slag.

Debriefing didn't suck nearly as much slag as coming out of it did, as his comm suite lit up with priority messages to return to Ratchet and Knock Out immediately with no further explanation. He pouted for just a moment as he took off for medical again, just having had entertained thoughts of having his wicked way with a certain fragbuddy's fluttery yellow doorwings or another's red-rimmed windshield before a well-deserved recharge.

The door to Medical was barely open before Jazz was dodging things. Little round projectiles rained down one after the other from the rafters, accompanied by angry high-pitched chittering and shrieking. Ratchet deflected each one using a dented tray as a shield, and it was only after Jazz was out of the line of fire and deflection that he realized it was the black seekerling that was the assailant.

"Jazz, over here." Jazz's attention snapped sideways at the pained sound of Knock Out's voice, and coming around a medical screen revealed the ex-Decepticon standing with his arm outstretched. Attached to that arm was the blue seekerling by tiny teeth and claws, and by the way his frame was held it was apparent he'd been there for a while. "A little help please?" Jazz came closer and had a moment's trepidation as the seeker's optics darted to him. Just moments after the spy was in his line of sight, his little blue helm popped up off Knock Out's arm, and his claws followed. Faceplates smeared with fresh blue energon, the stoic little mech reached his arms up towards Jazz insistently, and his optics filled up with optic cleanser.

 Knock Out pulled away quickly and peeled off to treat his injuries as soon as he could, leaving Jazz with the seeker. The infant's expressions shifted farther and farther into a frown the longer he was made to wait and so it was in short order that Jazz relented, before a true wibble could form on the tiny mech's lipplates.

He'd had worse things than another mech's energon on him, after all.

Back in the main part of the medbay, the last of the projectiles had been thrown. The saboteur made his way to Ratchet's side while deftly avoiding the ball bearings spread about the floor, and followed his gaze to where the sparkling sat.  The little one's entire demeanor changed at the sight of Jazz; instantly angry chitters changed to happy peeps and eager smiles.

"Do I want to know how he go-"

"He  _teleported_  up there. Soon after you left and it wasn't apparent you were playing an elaborate game of hide and seek." Ratchet was using the 'I'm at the very edge of my patience for dealing with this slag' voice, and it spurred Jazz into being as helpful as possible.

He tried waving at the sparkling.

The sparkling waved back.

Jazz motioned to the larger seeker, and brought attention to how the little blue mech was happily situated in his arms. The black sparkling's optics blew huge, and he was soon gone in a puff of purple only to reappear right directly in front of all of them. Jazz managed to catch the little troublemaker before gravity could do it's damage, the next moment found the seeker back at his face-rubbing tricks, cradled close to Jazz' bumper.

Ratchet wasted no time with the opportunity at hand; the little seeker didn't even notice when he jacked into his medical port.

The blue seeker was visibly hesitant at the sight of the jack when it was his turn, but a few soft crooning words from Jazz kept his behavior in line while Ratchet ran his diagnostic. Knock Out reappeared as Ratchet pulled back, new patchwork on his arm shiny silver and obvious. "Did you confirm it?" He asked wryly, pointedly ignoring the suspicious looks the blue seeker gave him.

Ratchet heaved out an ex-vent and murmured something about Primus having a sense of humor before speaking up. "I did, slag it all. On both accounts. Their spark signatures are a near match for.... er, the discussed Decepticon officers, but enough is different that there would be no way to 'confirm, confirm'." He made air quotes as he spoke. "Also, yes, according to the  _painfully_   _rudimentary_  seeker schematics I have, I can _reliably_  confirm that both of these scraplets are well and truly imprinted on Jazz in only a way a flier can. Once we salvage the full schematic from the archives and some information from the surviving flying eradicons, I can be sure we can take care of their medical needs adequately."

 Knock Out let out a soft, sharp chuckle before turning his attention to Jazz. "Then I suppose congratulations are in order. Welcome to parenthood."

 Jazz returned Knock Out's smirk with a grim one of his own. "I suspected something was up when this'n let go of you so easily." He shrugged the arm that held the blue seeker, moving him up and down for a moment. "Let's hope the base don't take this too badly. I know people are linin' up t' mentor just one newspark. Anything I need to know about these two before you cut us loose?" Jazz took the stretch in assuming, but from the ball bearings scattered about, he guessed the medics would be happier if the three of them  _weren't_  under pede.

 "Nothing for now." Ratchet replied "You'll be first on comm if something comes up. Also, you're on medical leave as of now, until you can get your little monsters to heel." He paused for just a moment.  "Now, if you would  _excuse me_ , I appear to have quite a bit of cleaning to do." Jazz didn't need to be told twice, and he was quick to vacate the Chief Medical Officer's domain.

 

* * *

 

 There were a few of the old comrade group were waiting for him when he got back to his quarters.

 Prowl, of all of them did not take the news well, but fell into some sort of resigned acceptance when it was apparent that Jazz had similar feelings about suddenly gaining custody of the two infants. Once they had gotten the sparklings (and Jazz) thoroughly cleaned, they sat down to discuss.

Prowl was of a mind that they come up with designations for the pair, while Jazz wanted to consider just giving the sparklings the names they had before.  It was easy and would _be_  easy.

 "Jazz, those names will undoubtedly single them out and make them targets for future ridicule and abuse. It's not responsible, kind, nor is it logical as the adoptive creator of these children to return those designations to them." He sounded almost as tired as Jazz was, and the saboteur didn't blame him in the least. Sparklings were far more fun when you could give them back to their caretakers. He suspected that he'd have help from the others with them, but there was no denying that _he was their caretaker now._

 A huffy ex-vent lead Jazz's argument. "C'mon Prowler, there aint an Autobot soldier alive t'day that's gonna be unable to recognize these two. Not unless we give these two a full repaint and get this'un to stop teleporting." Jazz laid a hand on the black seeker's helm, and his hand was quickly taken hostage in turn for a close inspection by the little mech. He waggled his digits in turn. "And if lil'Blue's armor is anything to go by now, I'd wager good cred that he can do what his previous self could too."

Bumblebee spoke up that he wasn't sure if that'd be an issue with their people or not. He gave his own repaint back on earth as an example for this, not to mention an incident recently regarding a former decepticon grunt's voice sounding _disturbingly_  familiar to a certain MIA warlord. 

 Prowl frowned, but his overall expression seemed contemplative. His visor brightened as he surveyed the two little ones, and the larger of the two stared right back at him. He raised and lowered his doorwings as he thought, and the little blue mech tried to mimic with his wings in turn.

 "I think a repaint could be doable." He nodded slowly, tapping at his chin in thought. "The CNA would be there still, of course, but a permanent repaint paired with the new designations would do wonders for public relations." Jazz sighed, he should have figured that Prowl would find some way to both compromise  _and_  be right.

He said as such, and Ironhide, with the black seekerling having been relocated on his lap, let out a huge guffaw.

 

* * *

 

After a long discussion that was interrupted by putting the sparklings down for the night, the group came to a consensus, the too many mechs piled into Jazz' apartment for his liking piled out, each left a gift or a smirk and a quip and often both, save for Ultra Magnus and Prowl, who were  all business.

It wasn't as he didn't  _want_  to have little ones of their own, but his previous plan was that he'd wait a few vorns for the reconstruction to be farther along before considering a sparkling- and then maybe he'd have some sort of partner or triad by then, too.

Offspring took up a lot of time an energy, and the war had barely registered to systems that woke up in the middle of his recharge in a screeching panic that it was finally _done with._

He'd just have to re-prioritize now.

 In the end, only the officers and and those in medical had the explicit knowledge of the seekers' identities..... Their _former_ identities. His tiny wards were _not_ them, even for as much as Jazz could see those mannerisms and quirks, even as mecha so itty-bitty. 

Anyone suspicious outside the officer cadre didn't deign to speak up, though - it wasn't as if there was anything that could be done that wouldn't result in life-changing consequences for those that entertained the thought.

Every spark may be precious, but that same spark could still be precious in a long period of spark confinement too. 

This was what Ultra Magnus told Sunstreaker, when he escorted him and his veritable mobile paintjob set-up to Jazz's quarters bright and early the next day, with Bulkhead on his heels as some sort of strange, giddy assistant. 

Who'da thunk that Bulkhead would get so wobbly over _sparklets._

Nevertheless, the seekerlets were painted and re-designated and Jazz officially became a parent.

Time marched on.

Gateway was painted a brilliant aqua and trimmed around his wings and silver helm with royal purple stripes. There had been some anxiety when he first teleported in front of someone who didn't  _know_ in a bout of excitement, but the onlooker had just laughed and commented that he would have been better suited to the name 'Spacebridge'.

He was bubbly and mischievous and had a processor as quick as his pedes. He was found be useful both as a courier and newspark retrieval specialist, for those times that the Ops division needed someone to get in to a confined space.

He idolized Jazz, and anyone with functioning optical sensors could see that fact plain as day on the young mech's face for his devotion to his parent. 

Supersonic's name was a little harder to explain in comparison to his brother's, especially with his very obviously thicker armor. Jazz suffered the obligatory 'lead balloon' jokes until the novelty of the fliers wore off and instead his black, white and blue paint job began to earn him many a compliment in comparison to his Jazz's, but his attitude gained him the nickname of 'Little Magnus' among the officers.

.....Or, it did for a time. 

For as quick as he was to grumble at Jazz whenever he did something that he didn't approve of, he was that much quicker to show his kindly disapproval of other mechanisms' shenanigans- especially his brother's. 

He almost knocked the mischievous, smaller seeker out of the the sky the first time he let out a ground-shaking sonic boom. His brother teleported to safety and Jazz had to prevent the laugh that wanted to bubble up out of his previously stalled engine from coming out, as the look Supersonic wore on his faceplates was pure Starscreamian in nature....

Jazz had just stood there when he was sure there was no injuries, fatal or otherwise, and shook his helm. 

No, that was all him, and perhaps a little bit of his compatriots-- those partners in crime in 'it taking a village' when it came to his boys. 

Jazz couldn't be prouder. 

**Author's Note:**

> No, your eyes _didn't_ deceive you, this is a repost! I wanted to make it more palatable for me and longer, So here it is. :P Post tf-con, I get in the posting mood, I suppose.


End file.
